Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As little Harry follows the Dursleys through the store, he can't help but get distracted by the ice cream stand in the corner of the store. The Dursleys don't notice that he fell behind, but someone does, or rather, a couple of someones do.

Hedge notices the small black haired kid from the corner of his vision getting approached by a wild Harpie. The smell of death seemed to cloud his sense of smell when he tried to figure out why the monster was attacking the kid, but he just couldn't leave him alone to fend for himself like that. Scooping up his charge and running at the kid and the monster, fending off the monster long enough for his charge to finish them off. Of course, now the skinny black haired kid was looking at him in wonder, clearly the mist wasn't particularly trying to hide him from this kid, which only solidified his idea that the kid was a demigod

Harry stared at the dusted monster then back at the two who had clearly saved him from some unfortunate fate. As he looked at the older one, he noticed two things, one: the man was clearly wielding some sort of metal bat, and two: the man was half goat

Harry looked at them both before taking the goat man’s hand, feeling safe with him, like he had just met a protector. “Who are you? What was that?” Harry asked quietly, half afraid he’d get hit for asking questions, but when the girl beside him gave him a tired look, he had the oddest feeling that he was safe with them.

“I’m Haley, this is Hedge, and the thing that just tried to attack you was a monster. Don't mind Hedge, he's just paranoid.”

“With good reason mind you! You both could have died. Always be aware of your surroundings. So, kid, ya got any family you got to get back to?”

Harry hesitated for a moment before answering quietly. “My aunt and uncle dont like me all that much…”

“Oh, yea, I feel that. My mom doesn't like me all that much either, wanna come with us for a while? Hedge said we were heading to a safe place for people like us.”

“People like us?” Harry asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously.

“Demigods. You both are demigods. I'll explain more when we get to camp.” Hedge muttered gruffly, leading the way out of the crowded stores.

Harry followed the duo diligently as Haley told him all about how she wound up with Hedge. It was such a cool story, though when she talked about her parents, it was clear that there was stuff going on that she just wanted to escape. Harry could relate, being surrounded by people who hated you could really hurt you down to your core. When they got onto the bus, the conversation took a lighter tone as they started debating which god or goddess would be their godly parent. Hedge interjected that Harry was definitely a child of the underworld, though he wouldn't clarify why he thought that.

Haley was super interesting, and Harry couldn't help but ask a bunch of questions, though Haley didn't always have answers, but that was fine. Harry was just happy to have someone who understood what it was like to have unexplainable things happen around you all the time and be unable to convince others that it really wasn't your fault that it happened.

Haley also asked a bunch of questions about uncle vernon and aunt petunia, and it felt so nice to be believed for once when he told someone about what went down in that house. Hedge didn't say much, though he did look concerned when Harry mentioned he slept in the cupboard under the stairs while complaining about constantly being woken up by Dudley stomping down the stairs. Haley responded to his complaining not with harsh words to be grateful for what he had like aunt petunia would have done, and instead sympathized with him, complaining about thin walls and obnoxiously loud neighbors.

Harry didn't realize when, but eventually the constant conversation came to a lull, and both Haley and Harry had fallen asleep on each other. Hedge grunted, though he didn't mind taking the first watch to let the kids rest. They were only kids after all, neither of them deserved the fate they were headed towards, but at least they would be relatively safe at camp.

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The rest of the weekend went by in a blur for Haley and Harry. There was just so much to adapt to. The Greek gods were not only real but alive and well, the fact that they were the children of the gods, the reality of centaurs and nymphs and dryads and harpies and so many more creatures once dismissed as fiction. The pavilion let you have as much food as you wanted, unlimited drinks of their choice, and so much freedom. Sure, the hermes cabin was crowded, but it was filled with jokes and laughter and hardly any hostility. Honestly, Harry would pick camp over the Dursleys any day. Camp was his home, a place where they did not stifle differences but instead embraced them. Of course it couldn't last forever, as soon enough someone had put out a missing person alert for him, and he was shipped back to the Dursleys.

On the last day of school, everything went wrong, or right, depending on how you looked at it. A monster attacked Harry as he and Dudley were on their way home. Harry, in a moment of adrenalin-fueled stupidity, stabbed the monster in the back as it tried to go for Dudley, saving his life. The mist had cleared, and it was obvious by the look on Dudley’s face that he had seen the monster for what it had been. A silent truce had formed between the two on that day.

When Harry got home, he silently placed a pamphlet for Camp on the dining room table. Of course, it looked more like a boot camp, but Harry was betting on the fact that getting him away from the house for the summer and the idea that it wouldn't be a fun time for Harry would persuade them to send him off. Dudley saw Harry put the pamphlet down on the table, yet decided to say nothing.

It wasn't long before Aunt Petunia found the pamphlet detailing the fake boot camp. Though she said nothing at the time, Harry had a feeling that she would be having a talk with Uncle Vernon once he got home from work. Harry disappeared into his cupboard and waited for Vernon to get home.

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Once Vernon had gotten home, Petuna quickly called him into the kitchen for a talk.

“Vernon, dear, how do you feel about sending Harry to a boot camp?”
“Well, if it doesn't cost us anything and relieves us from responsibility for the blasted boy, I don't see why we shouldn't. Perhaps it will finally beat the oddness out of him. Why?”
“I found this pamphlet on the table, how would you feel sending him here?” Petuna asked, handing over the pamphlet to vernon.
“Huh, the faction reminds me of the bootcamp I went to as a boy. Sounds like a nightmare, when do we send him off?”
“It looks like the admission starts a day after the end of the school year.”
“Brilliant. Tell the boy to pack his things, we can send him off to the pick up point two days from now.”

Harry peered around the corner, having been listening into the conversation and mentally jumping for joy. He rushed back to his cupboard and made a list of all the things he'd bring to camp. Of course, he knew some of the older Hermes kids wouldn't be against stealing something for him from the camp store if he did forget something. He felt a warmth bloom in his chest at the thought, it felt nice to have people in his corner for once.

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The day had come. The Dursleys had dropped him off at the meeting point with Hedge immediately taking charge and leading him back to camp. Harry couldn't wait to actually be able to participate in all the cool activities like sparring and archery and the lava climbing wall. Maybe if he was lucky he'd get claimed by one of the olympians and get to participate in a game or two of capture the flag.

Upon getting to camp, the first thing he noticed was that it was a lot more packed than it had been a couple weeks ago during his visit. Chiron pulled a disoriented Harry aside and explained that the ones he had met were the year round campers, and that camp was a lot more lively during the summer months. That day as everyone had reunited with old friends, mourned over losses, and eaten their fill in the pavilion, it was time to sing campfire songs, make new friends, and overall enjoy their summers with people like themselves.

A couple of Apollo kids played in a sort of band, as everyone else sang together. Harry felt like he was at the edge of happy tears. Was this what it felt like to belong? To be part of a community so much bigger than yourself? To be able to blend into the background and be okay with that?

Was this what it felt like to be part of a family?

That night, Harry went to bed holding his backpack close to his chest. He was sleeping in a room full of thieves and misfits, but it was the safest he'd felt in years. Hearing the soft snores of the kids around him and the peaceful breathing of the boys on either side of him, he fell asleep feeling loved.

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The next couple of days were very hectic for seven year old Harry. The Hermes cabin counselor took him aside to make sure he could swim and to teach him the schedule he'd be following with everyone else. Harry got fitted for armor and a weapon, sticking with a small dagger for the time being as he was too small for anything else. He was sent to the infirmary for his malnutrition and before he knew it, he was able to keep up with the older kids. He learned how to use his small frame and short blade to get in close so his enemy wouldn't have the room to attack. He learned how to shoot a bow, though he wasn't very good at it. Soon enough he was running through the forests with the actual Hermes kids, studying with the Athena kids, sparring with the Aries kids, gossiping with the Aphrodite kids, learning first aid from the Apollo kids, and making his own inventions with the Hephestus kids.

Two weeks in, he got claimed as a child of Hecate, which made Harry pause since Aunt Petunia was supposed to be related to his mom, but he shrugged his shoulders. If Athena could have children by having them pop out of her head and Apollo could give birth, what's to say that Hecate did not create her children in a similar way? Plus, supposedly one of her symbols involved snakes, and he had learned he could talk to snakes, though so far his experience with snakes was mostly just contained to the small garden snakes that slithered around the trees at the edge of camp and in the strawberry fields, so he guessed it was a reasonable enough match.

Everyone seemed so excited for him and he couldn't help but get excited as well. That night, he danced with some of the other campers, his joy overflowing into the air around him, and in that moment he saw the mist, malleable and at his fingertips. Giddy, he reached out, feeling it wrap around him. He flicked his hand at the bonfire, and like someone had dumped gasoline on it, it suddenly flared twice as high as it had been. Harry felt both drained and more energized than ever before. He looked down at his own hands as everyone stared in awe.

The bonfire dimmed back to normal and Harry sat back down, feeling Hecate and her love all around him. Hecate, goddess of magic, witchcraft, and crossroads. Here, in this moment, surrounded by other demigods and brought here by Hecate’s presence in his life, Harry felt at home.

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Harry left his sleeping bag and stood outside, staring at the sky. He decided to take a walk to the lake, staring into the water and looking at his own face. He looked happy, for once there wasn't anything weighing him down, and he could feel something in his core warm up at the thought, before a chilling voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“You looked so happy.” said the voice, and as Harry whipped around, he found himself face to face with someone who could have passed as an older doppelganger, but the eyes were off. Instead of a vibrant, almost violent green, the man had soft, almost loving brown eyes.
“Who are you..?” Harry asked, cautious but intrigued at this odd stranger.
“My name is Thanatos, the god of death, though many have known me as James Potter, your father.” Thanatos said, a kind smile on his face.
“But, but my godly parent is Hecate, she claimed me as her child…” Harry said, confused, this was too much for his seven year old brain to handle.
“And she was right to, you wouldn't exist without her intervention, as Death cannot create life alone.” Thanatos said gently, taking a few steps forward and taking Harry's hands in his own cold ones. “You are as much Hecate’s child as you were mine and Lily’s, and we all love you very much. Always remember, you are not alone. You have Hecate’s gift of magic, so let me give you a few gifts of my own.” Thanatos murmured, pressing a gentle peck to Harry’s forehead. “I love you, my son.” He said, fading away into the shadows and leaving Harry feeling even lighter than before, looking back at his reflection in the lake, he smiled. He was loved…

That night was far from the last time Thanatos visited camp, often watching Harry from the background as he trained his magic, learning to use his volatile emotions to fuel his magic and using his body as a focus. Each day at camp, Harry got a little better at something. As the summer went by in a blur, Harry was a lot more determined and had more focus than he had before.

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Once he got back to the Dursleys at the end of that summer, they could tell something was different. Harry was quiet and hardly made any noise. Spending the summer in the Hermes cabin taught him to be fast and sneaky if he wanted something. Even when Dudley tried to pick fights with Harry at school, Harry didn't just take it or run like he used to, rather he turned to face Dudley with a fierce look on his face, as if challenging Dudley to try.

The two got into trouble with a teacher later that week for fighting, but it seemed to be a wake up call that Dudley needed. For the next couple weeks, Dudley sort of avoided Harry, and though Dudley knew he wasn't the most observant, it was becoming more obvious how differently he and Harry were treated, it didn't seem right. Why didn't Harry eat with the rest of them? Why did Harry have to sleep in a cupboard under the stairs when Dudley had a whole second bedroom just for his unused toys? That's just how it's always been in their house, but none of his friends' families treated their family like that, so why was Harry being treated like that?

Harry wouldn't call himself and Dudley friends, but there was a certain understanding between the two of them now, and Dudley stopped going after Harry at school with his friends.
The school year was hell, and for once Harry agreed with that sentiment like a normal kid, though it wasn't for the reason most kids said school was hell, but rather because he kept seeing his dad out of the corner of his eye glaring at any monster that dared to get within eyeshot of Harry now that Harry knew he was a demigod. As much as Harry appreciated Thanatos trying to protect him, it was giving him the distinct feeling of being smothered, and after so long of being either left to his own devices or scolded, it was just uncomfortable enough to put him on edge, even more than the monsters trying to take a piece off of the child of the underworld.

Then there were the people. With the constant vigilance that camp had instilled in him over the summer, it was hard not to notice the number of oddly dressed adults staring at him. It was always someone different, but it was quickly becoming a pattern, and he wasn't sure he liked it, though the fact that Thanatos did not appear to scare them off was enough for Harry to dismiss these people as harmless.

Harry didn't know what to make of the fact that he had so quickly started taking his father’s presence as a sign of either safety if he wasn't there or danger if he was. It was very clear that Thanatos was very protective of his demigod child, constantly showing up whenever Harry was even slightly at risk of death.

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Growing up at camp had its ups and downs. Each summer, Harry would slowly learn more and more about his parents, the monsters after him, and the magic that resided within him. Watching trio after trio, year after year, go on quests and come back mangled, if they came back at all, gave Harry an uncomfortable awareness of death.

Each night after supper and the nightly campfire, Harry stayed out to just enjoy the peace before the harpies started descending on the occasional wandering camper. Each day the magic seemed thicker and more concentrated around Harry, almost like he could reach through the mist to the other side…

But that wasn't possible. The mist wasn't a tangible thing, it was like a reflection, an illusion, but it feels so real… it wouldn't hurt to try, would it? To reach out and brush with pure magic?

Reaching out, the mist curled around his fingers like snakes attracted to the warmth of his skin. That night, the magic felt cool against his fingertips, shimmering just slightly in the air, like a mirage but more solid somehow.

Harry pushed a little more, the mist resisting the force, and Harry frowned, before an idea came to mind. He took a deep breath and gently started attempting to silently coax the mist to move the way he wanted, to open up and show him what was on the other side.

As he experienced the same resistance, he focused on his fingers, then his palm, letting the magic within him to touch the magic outside, concentrating on what he wanted to happen and letting his magic carry on the message. Still, resistance, but the mist seemed to bend when he pushed, so he poured more into it, physically pushing and pushing… until he fell in, the mist opening like a curtain and swallowing Harry.

His internal magic started to push at his eyes, giving him a headache as he took off his glasses to rub at his eyes. But when he opened his eyes again, the sight took his breath away. The sense of magic was overwhelming, like every tiny speck was grating against his skin, sanding away each and every layer between it and him. Every shield, every binding, every wall and every boundary was breached as the magic tried to make itself one and the same with him, before he was suddenly yanked back into the real world, leaving his glasses behind as he collapsed back on the grass.

As the harpy was chittering away, herding him back to the cabins, Harry couldn't help but feel a little crazed, having fallen into magic like that, and having it react so aggressively to him when it had never done that before. The pure magic had stripped away every barrier and left him feeling raw and exposed in a way Harry didn't know he could feel.
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It wasn't until the next day that Harry realized that his glasses, his only pair, had been left within that rift of magic he had stumbled into.

Asking the Athena and Hephaestus cabin to help recreate them had left him with little results, as any chance at making him a new pair of glasses wouldn't be possible for several months as they would need materials that they just didn't have, and Harry wasn't so sure anymore of his magic to try and summon the necessary materials for them.

So that left the young boy with only one option. To try and get his glasses back himself.

Now, Harry wasn't a complete idiot, a little dense and dumb sometimes, sure, but he wasn't an idiot. He wasn't going to dive right back through the magic that had reacted so strongly to his presence the first time, but maybe he could reach through the magic into that weird sideways world to grab the item he was looking for?

Perhaps if he was careful, he could just put his arm inside and grab his glasses from within without actually falling in?

Maybe. If he played his cards right and didn't try to force his entire body through.

Harry went off to find a little spot, mostly separated from the rest of the campers, to practice reaching out to the magic. Starting off small, much like last time, he just wanted to touch, to reach out and feel the magic. He poured a little of his own magic through his arm down to his palm and through his fingers, coaxing the mist closer, gideing it to bend to his will and condense like a fog rolling in, hiding him.

Harry reached out into the mist once more, feeling the cool magic swirl around him like a current, and faced that same resistance as before. Harry took a breath and slowly poured out more magic, imagining his glasses and reaching out to grab them from within magic.

The force seemed to bend under his will, as he took another deep breath and pushed, just his arm, through to the other side, his fingers closing around something and pulling back.

Harry fell back onto the grass, his pants now covered in grass stains as the mist rolled out, spreading like a soft dew on the grass. Looking at what he had grabbed, he found his glasses in his hand, the frames bending and delicately holding the glass in place, his greek symbols still etched into the wings but now they seemed to almost glow in a way they hadn't before.

Putting them on again, Harry gapped at what he saw. The world seemed so bright with potential, the mist covering everything, but especially the demigods, in an almost shimmering layer of protection and concealment.

Harry was in a world of his own.
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The altered vision did die down not long after, but the instance of his glasses gave him an idea.
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As the years went by and Harry grew up at camp, hanging with the melting pot of the Hermes cabin and training every element of both his magic and his body, learning to wield both a sword and a spear in time, though preferring his dagger in most situations, keeping it in his boot. He was happy, despite the dangers.

He even learned how to imbue objects with his magic, experimenting with a simple protective charm against malicious intent and giving it to Dudley. He also experimented with fixing his glasses prescription and essentially allowing his dyslexia to no longer become an issue by having his glasses not only sharpen his eyesight but also translate any text into ancient greek.

Every night at camp, he'd throw in an offering for both Hecate and Thanatos, thanking them for the gifts of his family.

The summer before his eleventh birthday, something changed. The Dursleys decided to keep him home this summer. It seemed extremely odd, but Harry was careful to not piss them off too badly. Dudley seemed to notice something was going on, but mostly stayed out of the house as much as he could or convinced Harry to hang out with him, mostly either staying in his spare bedroom to play video games or going out into the garden so Dudley could practice his boxing moves.

As the days went by, Harry kept his head down, doing all the chores assigned to him diligently. Until the day came, Harry went to collect the mail, shifting through it, he found one addressed to him with a fancy seal, much too high quality to have come from anyone at camp.
“Look! Harry’s got a letter!” Dudley said suddenly as Harry had tossed the rest of the mail onto the table, clearly excited for Harry.

“Who would be writing to you?” Vernon snarled, ripping the letter out of Harry’s hands and startling Harry.

Dudley gave Harry a slight apologetic look, it was hard to remember sometimes that despite living in the same house, the Dursleys raised two very different kids.

Vernon ripped the letter open with Petuna reading over his shoulder, both of them going pale at the contents of the letter, before Vernon ripped the letter into shreds and tossed them into the fire. “Bah, I wont have such rubbish in my house.”

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After that, Harry was moved into the smallest bedroom, and though Dudley momentarily threw a fit about it, they both later agreed this was for the best. Harry helped move any of the stuff Dudley wanted to keep just for himself into his bedroom properly and moved into the smaller of the two bedrooms. It felt weird to be in such a space, having long grown used to the small space of his cupboard or the comfortable tight feeling of being surrounded by so many people at camp. Needless to say, it felt odd to have such a space just for himself.

The next couple days the letters kept coming, and Harry wanted to know what was inside of them. It consumed his late night thoughts, and before long he was trying as hard to get his hands on one that Vernon was trying to make sure he couldn't. Harry actually looped Dudley in on his little scheme to get one of those letters, and soon enough, since Vernon and Petunia weren't expecting it, Dudley succeeded in handing off one of the letters to Harry.

From that day on, Dudley and Harry just watched as more and more letters swarmed the house, causing Vernon and Petunia to go at it in a frenzy. Harry kept the sealed letter in a safe spot, and though he was tempted to open it, it was funnier to watch Vernon and Petunia lose it trying to keep the ever increasing number of identical letters away from him. Even Dudley agreed they were being very over the top about it.

…

Okay, this was getting out of hand. Perhaps Harry should have opened that letter sooner, maybe then Vernon wouldn't have lost his mind and rushed them away from number 4 Privet drive and into a shack out in the middle of a storm. Even Harry, with his warped sense of danger, could tell this was a bad idea.

As the Dursleys went to bed, Harry pulled out the letter. He'd be turning eleven in a couple hours, and while he wished he could have spent this year with his friends at camp, he knew things were about to change.

Making sure Vernon and Petunia were asleep, he held his breath as he opened the letter, breaking the wax seal and pulling out the papers inside.

We Welcome You to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry’s eyes went wide. A school for witchcraft? Did that mean magic? Harry quickly flipped to the second page, seeing a school shopping list, calling for various ingredients and books, all of which seemed to be relating to magic in some sort or other.

Harry was enrolled in a school for magic, Hecate’s specialty. Harry knew at this moment he was at a crossroads. He’d get to go to a school for magic and learn more about magic, then spend the summers at camp. Sure, he'd miss Dudley, especially since he’d calmed down in recent years, but the idea of learning how to increase the precision of his magic was too enticing.

Harry stuffed the papers into the envelope and stuffed it back into his boot along with his dagger. This school year was going to be interesting. That was, if his aunt and uncle allowed him to go.

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Right as Harry was falling asleep, there was a banging on the door. Instinctively, Harry pushed off of the floor and reached for his dagger. The banging stopped for a moment, before repeating. It was a knock, Harry realized, just a very heavy handed one. Harry had only relaxed for a moment before the door was knocked down and Vernon was up with a shotgun pointing at the intruder.

Harry watched carefully, looking through the mist to make sure this intruder wasn't just a monster in disguise. The larger than life man was thankfully not a monster, and even apologized for the door, putting it back if improperly.

Everything about this man seemed to set off alarms in his head, something wasn't what it seemed, which was only confirmed when the large man, Hagrid he said his name was, took the shotgun out of Vernon’s hands and bent it with his bare hands into something more resembling a pretzel.

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… okay, so it was an understatement to say that Harry wasn't really listening to Hagrid, but within the last ten or so minutes, the large man had found a largely secluded shack, got here through a storm, broke down the front door, and managed to light a fire in the firepit by pointing his umbrella at it. Though he did give Harry a slightly squashed birthday cake, which was more than he had been expecting this year, but still. Majorly suspicious behavior. The only reason Harry hadn't attacked Hagrid yet was the fact that the large man seemed more likely to kill him by accidently hugging him too hard than anything else.

“...yer a wizard Harry.” yep. That confirmed it. Either Harry was having an extremely vivid dream, or there was genuinely a completely separate secret group of people that had access to magic.

The next couple minutes were a blur for Harry, though a couple things stood out.

The story his aunt and uncle told him of what happened to his parents was a lie, though he already knew that thanks to his dad.
Hagrid gave Dudley a pig’s tail for trying to eat his cake.
He was a Wizard and was going to be going to a Wizarding school.
Apparently he was famous in the Wizarding world for defeating what equated to a tyrant when he was a baby.
That same tyrant was the one responsible for his parent’s deaths.
The tyrant’s name was Voldemort.

And now he was riding on a flying motorcycle to go get his school supplies. Great. He wondered if he should dye his hair just so he wasn't as recognizable, or maybe he'll just stick to growing his hair out.

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So, was this an elaborate ploy to get me alone? Cause it was starting to feel like a trap. Hagrid, what were you thinking bringing a child into a pub? And now people are staring at me, great. I already hated this.

Harry looked around the pub, mentally noting the exits when a strange man in a turban came up and stuttered something about it being a pleasure to meet the “great Harry Potter” and shaking his hand. Harry already felt uncomfortable and grew even more so when he noticed Thanatos standing in the corner of the room, looking somehow both pissed off and concerned as he stared at Harry and glared at the man wearing the turban.

“This is pro’esser Quirill, ‘es goin’a be one of your teachers ‘arry.” Hagrid spoke up, introducing the man wearing the turban.

Harry gave Quirill a shy smile, taking his hand back and glancing back at where Thanatos had stood, seeing just an empty corner. Safe to say, Harry was very happy to get out of there as Hagrid led him out of the back exit and into a dead end with a brick wall at the end.
Okay, what was Hagrid doing now, tapping a few specific bricks in that far brick wall with the end of his umbrella… Holy shit that wall just opened up. Okay, nevermind, clearly he didn't have enough information to judge anything in this new other secret world, despite technically being famous within it. Great.

Harry took a deep breath and looked around the area as Hagrid led him into the secret street. The area was bustling with people, most of which were wearing long black robes as they walked the streets. Just looking into the windows, Harry could see several things that would have tempted several of the Hermes kids he knew.

“How am I going to buy anything? I don't have any money.” Harry spoke up suddenly, momentarily wondering how successful he'd be at stealing from a bunch of magical shops, before Hagrid spoke up.
“Ya didn’ think your parents left you with nothin’ eh? Don’ worry, we be makin’ a pit stop at the bank”
“Wizards have banks?”
“Just the one, but you'd have to be mental to try an’ steal from the goblins.”

Note to self, goblin transportation is fast and there are no breaks.

Okay, so dad was totally going to have a lot of explaining to do. One, why did he never tell me about the magical world? And two, how come he never thought to mention that we are filthy rich? Like, I knew mortal money meant very little to the gods, but still, there were enough gold galleons, silver sickles and bronze knuts in his trust vault to be worth several thousand drachma on the low end. Gods, if the Hermes kids back at camp ever found out about this, there would be chaos.

Harry scooped up a couple handfuls of each form of coin, putting them in a pouch on his waist, and retreating back to the minecart before Harry, Hagrid, and the goblin manning the minecart went hurtling down further to the vaults buried even deeper within the earth.

Once they stopped at the vault Hagrid was visiting for “Hogwarts business” Hagrid and the goblin got out of the minecart, the goblin opening the vault and letting Hagrid grab the solitary small package inside, tucking it into one of the internal pockets of his large coat before returning to the minecart.

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Time to go shopping! Let's focus on the things I'm going to need for the school year, and then I can splurge with whatever money I have left over. So, robes would probably be a good start, I would hate to look out of place by not wearing the proper uniform, and maybe after I can look for a second hand bookstore to buy my school books to save a little so I can splurge more later.
As Harry stood getting measured for his school robes, a boy with blond hair and silver eyes started talking to him. Harry tried to pay attention to the words the boy was saying, but he couldn't help but think that the boy reminded him appearance wise of Athena kids mixed with the ego of an Aries kid and the attitude of some of the nastiest Aphrodite kids he'd met.

Harry quietly listened to the boy, nodding along where appropriate. Harry got the distinct feeling that the boy just liked the sound of his own voice, and while he was a little snooty and full of himself, Harry could detect an undercurrent of pride in his words. It was clear this boy grew up in the wizarding world, and while Harry had a feeling the boy would eventually drive him up the wall, it would be a good idea to know someone who actually knew the world he'd be entering.

“I'm so sorry, I don't think I caught your name.” Harry said, interrupting the boy with his most polite tone.
“Ah, I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” The boy said, an air of importance around him.
“Huh, bit of an odd name.” Harry said dismissively. He had to physically stop himself from cackling at the look Draco shot him, a look of scandalized disbelief on his face.
“Sorry, I’m very new to the wizarding world, is the Malfoy family important?” Harry said, channeling as much “innocent new camper” that he could.

That seemed to work, as Draco calmed down and started talking about his family’s importance in the government. Harry was making several mental notes about the state of the wizarding world, several of the laws that the Malfoy family helped put into place, and many other interesting tidbits that would help him blend into wizarding society. With a couple more pointed questions, Harry felt like he had enough knowledge to hopefully not get too caught off guard.

As Harry left the tailor, he felt like he had at least one alliance in this crazy world, though he wasn't sure how long it would last.

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Walking out of Madam Malkin’s was different to say the least, getting thrust into the hustle and bustle of Diagon alley was an experience to say the least as he made his way to Ollivander’s wand shop to get a wand as demanded by his school supplies list, despite the fact that he didn't understand the need for such a thing. He had a hard enough time keeping track of his dagger, let alone a magic stick.

Slipping into the shop was hardly a struggle for Harry, having spent 3ish summers rooming in the overcrowded Hermes cabin and slipping past defensive lines to capture and free his comrades in Capture the Flag meant that navigating crowded areas was nothing he wasn't familiar with.

The wand shop wasn't exactly what Harry had been expecting, but then again, he didn't know what he was expecting from a wand shop within a world and culture who put a lot of emphasis on such a mundane thing.

The shop was definitely magical, filled with a sense of wonder and mystery that intrigued Harry. The warm browns created a sort of welcoming and cozy atmosphere that drew in fresh blood… on second thought, this felt like a trap a monster would come up with to draw people to their lair.

Aaaand too late. The man himself has arrived. fuck.
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Stumbling out of the wand shop was disorienting. Having tried wand after wand, magic flying everywhere, only to end up with apparently a brother wand to the man who had given Harry his scar and fame was slightly unnerving and odd.

Walking it off, Harry made his way to look for perhaps a second hand book store to purchase his books for school. Certainly he could afford the first hand books, but if there was one thing the Hermes kids had taught him, it's that people wont notice if old things get stolen or go missing, but they will notice if there is one less in the brand new inventory.

Plus, it wasn't like the Dursley’s ever got him anything new, like, ever. It was bad enough that he now had brand new school robes that he was getting, and a brand new wand, if he had to buy something else brand new, he was going to start cringing.

Unless it's potions, because he knew how using old worn down cookware or expired ingredients could cause unruly side effects, mostly food poisoning, and if that could happen with normal cooking and ingredients, then Harry didn't want to find out what would happen if he used second hand ingredients in something as finicky as magic potions.

Chapter Text

As the Dursleys dropped Harry off at the station and while Vernon spat something at Harry as they parted ways, Harry paid him no mind, rather trying to figure out how he was supposed to get to platform 9 ¾ when there was no visible signage. Harry figured it was probably disguised somehow, much like the mist hid demigod shenanigans from the world. Harry stood a bit away but within sight of the divider between platform nine and ten, doing his best to look like he belonged while scanning the crowd for anyone that could help him. He stood like that for a couple minutes, occasionally seeing people disappear around the divider, but never being able to tell how they got to the platform he was looking for.

That was, until a large family of redheads passed him, talking rather loudly. Harry was pretty sure that they shouldn't be talking about the platform so obviously when Harry was pretty sure this was a secret society, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He sent up a thank you prayer to whichever god decided to help him out and sort of slipped his way behind the redheaded boy that looked about his age, listening to the woman as she went over things with her children.

“Now, you're sure you have everything? Robes? wands? textbooks? Parchment?” The woman, whom Harry is assuming is their mother, listed off. All of which were items on his school supplies list, so Harry was pretty confident they were at least in the know, and would probably know how to get to the platform.

Harry silently listened to the woman talk as she flitted between each of her children, while he did a mental checklist of his items as well. He giggled as the slightly older kids, Fred and George, if he was hearing that right, corrected her about which ones they were. He was sure that by their smiles they were just messing with her, but he was sure that getting mistaken for one another even by their own mother must be discouraging at times.

Harry caught himself in his own thoughts, having almost missed the redheaded woman re-explaining how to get to the platform for her kids, and by the looks on the boy’s faces, she’s done this a lot, but it was useful for Harry, so he made sure to pay attention.

“Alright kids, you remember how to get onto the platform?”
“Yes mum, we know.”
“Well, alright, just remember to keep walking at the barrier, don't stop. Best to do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous.”

The older woman continued talking, fussing over her kids and telling them to stay out of trouble, but Harry checked out, having gotten the information he needed. He carefully moved away from the family, not noticing the way Molly Weasley glanced at his retreating form before going back to her boys.

Harry moved through the station, lining himself up with the face of the pillar that other wix had been disappearing through. He waited until there wasn't anyone in his way, and ran. As he was closing in on the wall, he closed his eyes and held his breath. When he didn't crash into anything, he opened his eyes and the sight of the train took his breath away. Wix surrounded him in every direction he looked. He slowed down and moved out of the way of the pillar, looking around and eventually he caught a very brief glance of Draco, though he immediately lost sight of him in the crowds again, it gave Harry peace of mind that there was at least one person he recognized around.

Harry got onto the train, finding an empty compartment and settled down, putting his items into the overhead and settling in, fully prepared to sit alone for the ride.

As the train left the station, He settled down, checked the dagger still tucked safely in the sheathe in his boot, his wand resting in a custom sheath in his other boot.
There was the faintest sound, a swish of fabric and the smooth slide of the door as it opened. It was the youngest red headed boy. Harry looked at him, and he looked back awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot nervously.

“Umm, is it okay if I sit with you? Everywhere else is full.” the boy said, making Harry realize that he'd been silently staring like an idiot.
“Oh, yea, for sure.” Harry said quickly, watching as the boy sat down.

“I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley.”
Harry took a breath, smiling. “I'm Harry. Harry Potter.” he said, catching the minute changes in Ron’s face. Surprise to shock to acceptance to curiosity.
“Is it true then? That you have the, the…” Ron made a gesture to his own forehead. He clearly had zero tact or idea how to talk to people, and Harry sort of enjoyed that. It meant the boy wasn't a prat that would make a scene about knowing someone famous. Harry raised his hand to his hair, parting his fringe and showing the lightning bolt scar that Voldemort gave him.
“Woah, wicked.” Ron said with a smile.

The trolly lady passed their compartment, asking in her soft voice if they wanted anything.
“No thanks, I'm all set.” Said Ron, holding up a sandwich with a sort of sad smile.

Harry was reminded of every time Dudley had gotten sweet treats like ice lollies or caramel candies while Harry got nothing. At that moment, the coins in his pouch felt heavy, and he had said that he was saving that money to splurge on something for himself…

Harry pulled out his coin pouch, a grin on his face. He'd always had a sweet tooth, though it was rare that he got to indulge it.

“We'll take two of everything please.” Harry said, a bright innocent grin on his face as Ron looked at him for a long moment like he'd grown a second head as the trolley lady took his money and gave him two of everything on the trolley before continuing on.

Harry and Ron went to town on the sweets, Harry making it his personal goal to try every kind of sweet he could. He picked up the jellybeans, the name catching his attention. “Berty botts every flavor beans?”
“They mean every flavor, there's chocolate and peppermint, and there's also spinach, liver, and tripe. George swears he got a bogey flavored one once.”
Harry looked at Ron for a long moment before looking away, taking a napkin and spitting out the jelly bean that was in his mouth. Instead he picked up a little package saying it was a chocolate frog. After what Ron said about the beans, he had to ask. “These aren't real frogs, are they?”
“It's just a spell, besides, it's the card that you want.” Harry let out an internal sigh of relief, so the frog is pure chocolate, despite any oddities.
Harry was only half listening as Ron continued, opening the packaging and grabbing the frog before it got to jump away. “Each pack’s got a famous witch or wizard, I've got about 500 myself.”
Harry nodded, opening the pack and pulling out the card and reading the name on it. “I've got Dumbledore!” Harry said with a grin, remembering a couple things Hagrid had mentioned about the headmaster.
“I've got about six of him.”
Harry looked back down at the card, blinking a couple times as the card, which once had a picture of the man above the name and little caption. Now though, the picture was devoid of the white bearded wizard. “He's gone…”
“Well you can't expect him to wait around all day, can you?”
Harry blinked at that, so the pictures didn't stay still and in one place? That sounded weird, but he grew up knowing the Greek gods and their myths and monsters are real, so who was he to judge on wix weirdness?
“This is Scabbers, by the way. Pathetic isn't he?” Ron said, dragging Harry’s attention to the rat that was on Ron's lap, eating something out of one of the little candy containers.
“Just a little bit.” Harry said, looking at the rat. Something wasn't right with that rat. Something about Scabbers was pulling at Harry’s survival instincts, and it didn't help that he could swear he caught a glimpse of his dad from outside the window.

Ron kept talking, though Harry just vaguely agreed as he kept his eyes on the rat, trying to figure out what it was about the pet rodent that was setting him off.

Ron took out his wand, making a vague waving motion at the rat, apparently about to try to turn it yellow.

It was then that a girl with bushy brown hair, brown eyes, and slightly tan skin had come up to the door of the compartment.
“Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one.”
“Uh, no.” Ron replied, looking up from his rat.
“Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see then.” The girl spoke, not even introducing herself. Harry looked at her for a long moment. She had that air to her that reminded Harry of Athena kids.

Ron started the spell, and obviously didn't work, and while Harry was pretty sure he would have been able to turn the rodent yellow with a bit of focus, or at least make the rodent look yellow with the mist, but he wasn't going to say that aloud, not when these wix seemed so stiff in their understandings of magic, and the girl seemed particularly snooty about it, though more in the “i read every book on the subject and did small experiments to be proof of concept” kind of way rather than “i grew up engrossed in this world and know the ins and outs of everything” kind of way.

“Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it?” the girl said, and Harry wanted to tell her that it sounded like she thought she was better than him just because he failed a spell, but he kept his mouth shut for now.
“Of course, I’ve only tried a few simple ones myself, but they've all worked for me.” She continued, moving into the compartment and sitting down across from Harry. “For example-” she pointed her wand at Harry’s face, specifically the taped together rim of his glasses.- “Oculus reparo.”

“That's better, isn't it?” She went on as Harry took off his glasses to check and sure enough, the two pieces had seamlessly been fixed, and while Harry did appreciate not having to make himself a new set, he could see her start to recognize him, and decided to cut her off.

“Yes, I’m Harry potter, and yes, having my glasses fixed is nice, but maybe next time ask before shoving a wand in someone's face? It's incredibly rude, don't you think? To point a spell at someone or their stuff in this case without their permission? What if something had gone wrong? You also never introduced yourself.”

“...oh, um, I’m Hermione Granger,” she paused, turning to look at Ron. “and you are..?” she asked a bit more hesitantly.
“Ron Weasley.”
“Pleasure. you two better change into your robes, I expect we will be arriving soon…” Hermione said, quickly leaving to escape the embarrassing situation she found herself in and to continue looking for Neville’s toad.

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Upon getting off of the train, two things caught Harry’s attention. the older students heading to the carriages with the gray, almost dead looking horses pulling them, and the beauty of the night sky and the stars above their heads. Mother magic was watching her children tonight.

Harry sent up a small prayer to Hecate before following Hagrid as he directed all the first years onto the boats. When they all set off, it took a while to cross the lake, and the clouds and fog rendered most of what was ahead of them unknown.

Harry was sort of hanging off the edge of the boat, whispering a greeting to the Naiads and merfolk that were guiding the boats, before looking up when he heard a collective gasp ring out across the boats.

Looking up, Harry caught sight of Hogwarts for the first time, and it took his breath away. The towers seemingly stretched into the heavens and the foundations sank into the earth. As they docked and all the first years got out of the boats, Harry swore he could feel the magic in the air seeping into his skin, even through the warm uniform.

All the other first years were also in awe, but more so at the sheer size of Hogwarts than the pure magic surrounding it. Harry felt a pleasant shiver go down his spine, as if Hecate herself was approving of his presence here.

Walking into the hall was an experience to be sure, the place was so filled with life and magic that reminded Harry of camp. He almost felt as if he could just reach out and touch the dense magic that surrounded them all.

Of course, that was when the teacher approached all the first years, and Harry finally refocused on reality.

“Welcome to Hogwarts. Now, in a few moments you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.” The women took a long pause to look around at all the first years. “Now, While you are here, your house will be like your family.”

Harry wondered if she meant like the Dursleys, who mostly hated him, or like the cabins back at camp, whom he mostly got along with if you ignored the occasional inter-cabin scuffle or prank.

“Your triumphs will earn you points, any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup.” the professor continued, before someone from around the middle of the group called out “Trevor!” and quickly moved to collect the toad. Harry didn't recognize the boy, but based on the name of the toad, he was willing to bet that this boy was the Neville that Hermione had been helping earlier. With the toad in hand, the boy mumbled a soft “sorry” and returned to the group.

“Congrats on finding your toad, Neville.” Harry whispered to the boy as he brushed past, earning a small nod of acknowledgment from him before refocusing on the teacher.

“The sorting ceremony will begin momentarily.” The professor spoke before leaving them to their own devices.

“It's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.” the blond boy from the robes shop, Draco Malfoy his name was, said.

This started a chain of whispers, and Harry got the first official look at what his name alone brought. It reminded him oddly of the kids who got to go on quests during the summer. Those who came back got their 15 minutes of fame, though those tall tales didn't have nearly the staying power as he seemed to, considering he had been out of the wix eye for 12 years.

“This is Crabbe, and Goyle. And I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” he continued, clearly not remembering that time they met in Diagon alley. Ron beside Harry snorted at hearing the pretentious way Draco said his own name.

“Think my name is funny, do you? No need to ask yours, red hair and a hand-me-down robe, you must be a Weasley.” Draco said, turning up his nose at Ron, looking at him in distaste before turning to Harry. “You'll soon learn that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you with that.” he continued, holding out his hand.

Harry smiled, taking Draco’s hand and squeezing much harder than necessary. “I appreciate the offer, but I'm sure I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.” Harry said, his voice giving away the passive aggressive nature of his words as he was actively trying to keep a lid on his temper. It would do him no good to blow up and ruin his streak now, not when he was finally away from the Dursleys for the school year.

The way Draco seemed almost scandalized at his words, but had no time to think of a rebuttal as the professor came back and tapped the blond haired boy on the shoulder, getting him to rejoin the main group.

“We are ready for you now.” she said, leading them into the great hall. Harry felt like he had been sucker punched by the pure amount of magic in the room as he entered, but nonetheless, he continued on.

As the first years approached the front, where the sorting ceremony was about to commence, Harry mentally ran through all the magic he could do, as well as several of the different ways he had trained at Camp. as much as he hoped the school wouldn't actually put newbies up against something like a troll in order to figure out how they acted under pressure and sort them that way, Harry was prepared to take down a monster if necessary, with his celestial bronze dagger in his boot and his wand in one of the interior pockets of his school robes, it wouldn't be an issue.

When they got up to the front and all there was, was an old looking hat on a stool, Harry felt a slight bit of relief.

“Now, when I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses.” the professor spoke, pulling a list from… somewhere… and started listing names.

Notable mentions are Hermione getting into Gryffindor, Draco getting into Slytherin, and Neville getting into Gryffindor, before Harry’s name was called, causing whispers to spread through the great hall.

Harry walked past and made his way to the front, sitting on the stool as instructed as the professor placed the sorting hat on his head, and the hat began to speak to him within his mind.

“Difficult, very difficult indeed. Plenty of courage, I see. not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?”
“I want to be where I can best protect my friends.” Harry thought firmly, thinking back on all the times he nearly lost people and had to bargain with his dad to keep them around just a little longer to force feed them nectar or ambrosia to save their lives.
“Well, I can't very well put someone who bargains with death so blatantly anywhere other than,
GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor table clapped loudly as the professor took the sorting hat off of his head and he made his way to the table, sitting next to Hermione and Neville.

The sorting ceremony went on and sort of blended into the background as Harry talked with Neville and Hermione, before Ron’s name was called to be sorted, and Harry re-focused on the sorting just in time to hear the sorting hat call out “GRYFFINDOR!” and Ron made his way to the table, getting congratulated and teased by his older brothers.

Once all the first years had been sorted, before the feast could truly start, Dumbledore stood up and called for everyone's attention. “Welcome!” the old man said, and truly, he was old. He looked older than even Chiron and Mr. D back at camp, and both of them had been around since ancient Greece. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are, Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

______________________

The banquet went on for quite a while, before everyone was dismissed to their common rooms, of course, not before Dumbledore gave everyone vague warnings about avoiding the third floor corridor.

As the large group of Gryffindor’s climbed the stairs up and up and up to the entrance to their common room, Harry couldn't help it as his attention kept being dragged to the windows they passed, the forbidden forest in the distance and the moon peeking out from behind the clouds, the stars shining brightly in the ink stained sky.

As the prefect opened the way for them to enter the common room, Harry looked around the area carefully. The fireplace was lit, the fire giving the room a nice warm feeling to it, with the various couches and seating arrangements, it certainly seemed cozy. With the two branching staircases to the separate boys and girls dorms.

Harry, along with all the other first year boys were sent to find their rooms, and Harry was not at all surprised to find himself rooming with four other boys. Ron, Neville, and two unknown boys named Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.

As Harry set up, bringing out photos of home and setting them up. All of them were simple polaroid's that didn't move, but they reminded Harry of his place back at camp, where there weren't really any expectations and he just got to be himself, climbing the lava wall, riding the pegasi, canoeing with the Hermes cabin, getting thrown into the lake by his friends, playing capture the flag with the other cabins, practicing his aim with Chiron, sparring with his fellow campers in the pit, fighting monsters and getting chewed out by whoever is working in the infirmary that day for getting hurt.

While everyone else is unpacking their things and personalizing their beds, Harry set down his own photos and sat in the window, opening it and sticking his head out, as the wind blew through his hair, tousling it like a fond parent or a playful older sibling.

Chapter Text

Waking up that morning was a peaceful ordeal. At least for Harry, who was used to waking up at the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise and get ready for the day. For the rest of the boys, however?

…

CRASH BANG CRASH BANG

“UP AND AT ‘EM! WAKE UP EVERYONE!”

The resulting falling out of bed as the other boys were startled awake, only to see Harry Potter already up and dressed and laughing at them was definitely not the wake up that they were expecting.

As the other boys stumbled around, getting ready to head down to breakfast, Harry got a head start on his day.

A quick run around the castle before heading back to the great hall for breakfast, Harry got back right as they were getting their schedules explained and handed out. Harry slipped into a seat, grabbing the plate and filling it with some filling breakfast, eating quickly as he looked over his schedule before all the first years scurried to their first class.

_________________________
Off to their first transfiguration class, and first class overall. Of course their first lesson is more on theory and safety precautions than actually learning transfiguration, for now, but getting a broad idea of how this year was supposed to go was a decent thing to learn, even if Harry had to deal with Draco staring at the back of his head the entire time.

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Those first few weeks seemed to fly by as the days got shorter and the nights got colder, getting to explore Hogwarts and its many changing stairways and corridors, and getting lost so many times.

As Halloween approached, Harry could feel his own mood dampening as everyone prepared to celebrate the day his parents had been taken from his life before he ever got to truly meet them. How could they celebrate so merrily the defeat of their dark lord when it had left their savior an orphan? How could they celebrate the day James potter and Lily Evans had been ripped from the world too young? How could they look at him and not see them?

How could the adults look into his eyes as they prepare the castle for Halloween and not see the two that they had grown up with? How could they look into his eyes this Halloween and not see the two people who had loved him, even in death, and had given their lives to protect?

How dare they ignore the sacrifices that had saved them all?

… none of them even seemed upset.

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Now, let it be said that Harry is not unobservant. Let it also be said that of everyone who had supposedly once known his parents, not one of them seemed to be grieving on the anniversary of their deaths.

Harry was already in a bit of a sour mood of his own over the holiday preparations, but at least he had a reason to be upset, even if he was trying, and oddly enough, apparently succeeding in hiding his own off mood.

But even he considered Ron’s words that morning during charms class to Hermione to be a bit mean. It wasn't her fault that she wanted to learn everything she could about this world so as to not be left behind by those raised in it.

Harry could sympathize and understand her obvious desire to learn and keep up with a world that seemed so different from the one he had grown up in. but even he could tell that she was much too far ahead, and had unintentionally isolated herself much like he used to in normal school. It was a tricky thing to balance, being in the know and not going too far.

Harry himself couldn't count the number of times he had crashed with the Athena kids for a couple hours to study the myths and legends that he was seeing. He could only imagine that Hermione was experiencing that same thrill, learning about the wix world, and yet, that drive had turned against her, leaving her isolated.

_________________________

Harry was starving by the time the Halloween feast finally came around, quickly siding into a seat and filling his plate, stuffing some of the salad straight into his mouth as he reached to load a nice baked potato onto his plate when Quirrel bursts through the door, shouting something about a troll before passing out.

Harry grumbled a little as he was herded out of the great hall, having to leave the food behind.

As they started getting led back to the common room by Percy Weasley, Harry had a bad feeling. Like something was pulling at the back of his head. Doing a quick headcount of the other first year Gryffindors, Harry realized something. Someone was missing. Hermione wasn't among them.

Harry stopped, turning to Ron beside him.

“I've just thought - Hermione.”
“What about her?”
“She doesn't know about the troll.”
Harry watched Ron hesitate, biting his lip. “Oh, all right,” Ron bit out. “But Percy’d better not see us.”
_________________________

Harry was suddenly glad that he hadn't had the chance to stab the large creature as the teachers came barreling in, his breathing heavy as the adrenaline still rushed through his veins, catching sight of Hermione in the corner, still cowering as the troll lay unconscious at their feet.

“You’re lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?”
Snape gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry had a moment where he swore he felt a chill run down his back as he looked at the floor, wishing that Ron would put his wand down. Then a familiar small voice came out of the shadows.

“Please, Professor McGonagall - they were looking for me.”

“Miss Granger!”

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.
“I went looking for the troll because I - I thought I could deal with it on my own; you know, because I've read all about them.”
Ron dropped his wand in surprise. Hermione Granger, of all people, the goodie two shoes know it all, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

“If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead by now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.” Hermione continued, hanging her head in shame to sell her story.

Harry knew he had actually planned to stab the creature, but hadn't had a chance to reach his dagger in time, and so instead opted to use his wand the same way he'd use any long object to distract a large opponent, but that wasn't really relevant information for the teachers, so he settled on just trying to look as though this story wasn't new to him as Ron did the same beside him.

“Well- in that case…” McGonagall started, staring at the three of them. “Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?”

Hermione hung her head. Harry felt the words fail him, Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and yet here she was, pretending she had to get them out of trouble.

_________________________

After the troll incident, Harry knew he couldn't put it off much longer. The grief that had been following him all day, the adrenalin and subsequent anger and fear, it just kept swirling in his gut and behind his eyes.

Sneaking out of the castle wasn't a difficult feat. getting to the area between the lake and the forbidden forest even less so, but what he didn't notice in his rush to hopefully meet with his dad was the two Slytherins following him

“... Dad?” Harry asked the air, sending a small prayer to his father as he sat at the edge of the lake.

“Yea, kiddo?” James said, appearing out of thin air and kneeling beside his son, taking off his hood to show his smiling face, though there was a sad, almost worried look in his eyes.

“... sorry for bothering you, i just…” Harry stuttered, looking down at the water, as James’s smile fell, a sigh escaping his lips as he leaned over and pulled his son into a comforting hug.

“It's okay, I understand. You don't need to be strong anymore. I'm here, kiddo. You’re safe.” James said softly, as Harry buried his face in his fathers chest, as a sob bubbled up within the young boy’s throat, and the sound broke James heart as he soothed his son.

“I miss her, dad” Harry sobbed, his heart heavy with the motherly affection he had had once, and lost too soon, the love he had barely had enough time to even know. Everything just came down at once, and Harry just wanted his parents. He wanted his mom.

“I do too, kiddo. I do too…” James whispered, his heart heavy with the grief of his lovely wife and the pain his son had to endure without either of them. He wished he had the power to stay with his son, as a solid presence in his life. He wished his son didn't need to feel the pain of being an orphan.

Chapter Text

Snape couldn't believe his eyes. It shouldn't have been possible, it didn't make any sense, but to see that boy, that small, eleven year old boy, have an emotional breakdown in his fathers arms, Snape couldn't see James in that face. Could hardly see the Potter that he had despised from his childhood in the man comforting the kid.

No, it couldn't be possible, the man was dead, and yet… the figure in front of them, comforting the young potter, couldn't be anyone else. The resemblance was too uncanny. It was like the man hasn't aged a day since his death.

He wanted to hate the man and boy in front of him, wanted to hate them for what he had gone through, but… seeing the comforting scene in front of him made it hard. It made it hard to see the cruelty that had haunted his youth. Seeing the young potter crying in the arms of his father, and the man comforting his child, was a wake up call that Severus didn't know he needed.

The boy who had tormented him in his youth was gone, the man he had grown into was someone who didn't deserve to be taken by death so young.

The boy he had spawned didn't deserve to be ripped from his parents over someone who no longer existed.

Why did he hate Lily’s child? Over a man who had grown for her? Who had changed for her? Why was he hating Lily’s child, when that was exactly who he was? Lily’s child.

_________________________

The walk back to the castle was something Draco hadn't been expecting when he'd followed Potter. Seeing the famous boy who lived, crying in his dead fathers arms, forced Draco to face the reality that the boy had so much less than him. He had no father to complain to, no mother to patch him up. The boy who lived, had been forced to give up the life Draco so carelessly flaunted.

That wasn't right! Harry was supposed to be powerful, was supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world, was meant to be like him, among the elite, and yet, the boy was an orphan living with those disgusting muggles??

Draco knew he had to do something. Harry couldn't stay ignorant of his place here, Draco had to teach him how to be one of the elite, like him, as was his proper place. Not among those Weasleys, the blood traitors, or those filthy muggle born.

_________________________

The fall months seemed to quickly fade, bringing a bitingly cold winter, but also, Harry’s first Christmas away from the Dursleys.

Throughout the castle, students of all ages felt the excitement building up in preparation for the gift giving holiday, and waking up that morning, Harry was surprised by the number of presents at the foot of his bed. Sure, maybe he'd been expecting something small from some of his closest friends at camp, but this was definitely more than he had been expecting.

Harry felt excited as he practically jumped out of bed to take a look at the presents, most of them addressed from people he didn't really know. One from Mrs. Weasley, one from Hagrid, oddly enough one from the Dursleys, and one unlabeled one.

He also got one from Hermione, and a single gift from both Eliza and Haley, two of his closest friends from camp. He opened the one from Eliza and Haley first, and laughed quietly to himself as he saw what was inside. It was a book labeled “500 things to do at boarding school when you're bored” translated into Greek. Those two knew him so well.

Opening the one with no name revealed a comfortable looking cloak. It looked a little big for him, but he went to try it on anyway, throwing it over his shoulders and lifting the hood. Going to look at himself in the mirror, only for his dad to appear behind him, looking frantic and concerned.

“Harry?! Son??” James hissed, looking frantically for his boy.

Harry pulled down the hood of the cloak and turned to look at his father. “Dad? What's going on?” he asked, looking confused.

James looked at his son’s floating head, and breathed a sigh of relief. He'd just been given his old invisibility cloak, he wasn't actually gone. “Oh thank goodness you’re okay…” James whispered, moving silently and awkwardly pulled his son into a hug.

“Uh, dad? What's going on?” Harry tried again.

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Thanatos had been taking a moment to relax after dropping off another dead soul when it happened. A chill went through his spine as he could no longer sense his son.

James felt a wave of panic as he immediately appeared in Hogwarts, seeing his old dorm room did little to calm him as he couldn't immediately see his son.

The panic only increased until the moment he saw his son’s head appear, looking like it was floating. It was only then that James took a sigh of relief. His son had just been given his old cloak from the old man. This was fine, perfectly fine, actually. If anyone was going to have one of his artifacts of power, he was glad it was his perfect, understanding son. At the very least, it would prevent Dumbledore from gaining control of him. He didn't trust the old man with that kind of power, especially after what he did to his best friends and son after his ‘death’.

There weren't a lot of things that made Thanatos nervous, but being harnessed by any of the lords of the wix world made him uncomfortable. Death was supposed to be neutral and unbiased, and for the most part he was, but having a lord of the white, light, dark, or black become the master of death would only lead to disaster.

Having Dumbledore, the technically unofficial lord of the light, having two of his three hallows was nerve wracking. The man had a bit too much power already in his humble opinion, and becoming the master of death essentially made the person close to a god, unkillable until they are ready to pass on, when they greet him like an old friend.

Knowing the old bastard would likely use and abuse the power of death made him uneasy. At least if his son was in possession of part of his power, it made it harder for old Dumbledore to abuse that power too.

It was at that thought that Harry finally snapped James out of his own thoughts.

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“Dad!” Harry whisper shouted, shaking his father by the shoulders, finally snapping him back to reality.

“Sorry kiddo.” James whispered back “it's just… how about we take this conversation to the common room? We don't want to wake up your roommates…”

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“So, let me get this straight,” Harry started, sitting across from his dad in the empty Gryffindor common room. “You made a bet with a trio of wix centuries ago, lost, and created three artifacts of power to give to them as rewards for winning the bet, and the cloak is one of them?”
“Yes.” James said, looking mildly embarrassed. “I was lucky that Hecate helped me get the cloak back for my life as Lilly’s husband and your father, and now it's been passed down to you.”

Harry hesitated for a moment, thinking. “Um… does that mean I should give it back? It is your cloak, after all, one of your artifacts of power.”

James pursed his lips to stop himself from getting too emotional, goodness, his son is so damn perfect. “No, no, it's okay. I don't mind you having it. It's an old potter heirloom just as much as it's my cloak. Just… for your old man's sake, send me a warning when you use it?” he said, chuckling slightly even as he was being dead serious. Those short moments of not being able to sense his son had nearly given him a heart attack, and he was a god for hades sake! Gods don't get heart attacks.

Harry smiled at his dad. As much as he wished he could spend more time with him when he wasn't in mortal peril, it was nice to at least know his dad cared about his well being. Even if he was the god of death. “Course, dad. I'll send a quick prayer your way before I use it, promise.”

James sighed, glancing around. “Looks like our time is up, kiddo. Stay out of trouble, will ya? Take care.” Thanatos said, before vanishing.

Harry let out a breath. No matter how much or how often he did it, facing down the literal embodiment of death itself was a bit of a terrifying thing for an eleven year old, no matter that it was his dad, and that he'd do anything to keep from taking Harry prematurely.

Just as Harry was slowing his heart rate, he heard shuffling coming from the dorm rooms, indicating that people were starting to wake up. He quickly sent a mental prayer to his dad before ducking under the cloak to sneak back to bed without being seen by anyone else waking up at the early hour.

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When Ron woke up, Harry had already stashed the cloak away and made a show of opening the presents he hadn't gotten around to before his dad had appeared to talk with him.

Of course the Dursleys didn't give him much, just some dog biscuits from aunt marge, and a fifty-pence piece from the rest of that side of the family.

But the one from Mrs. Weasley was interesting, as inside was a nice emerald green jumper and a box of fudge, which was sweet of her. He'd always had a bit of a sweet tooth, and the jumper went well with his eyes. If nothing else, at least now the Aphrodite cabin couldn't complain that his wardrobe was missing anything to go with his eyes, though now that he thought about it, they'd probably be dismayed that his house colors were red and gold, not the green and silver of Slytherin that would probably match better… gods, back on track.

The next gift was from Hagrid, and all it was, was a simple wooden flute. Not bad, but not the best either. Eh, maybe he'd get one of the Apollo kids to teach him how to play it over the summer. And finally was the gift from Hermione, which was a box of chocolate frogs, again, feeding into his sweet tooth. He could respect the thought behind it, at least.

Chapter Text

That night, using the invisibility cloak, Harry snuck out of Gryffindor tower to wander the castle, exploring every corridor and room this vast castle had to offer
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Harry didn't remember why he'd ventured further into this room compared to all the others before it, nor why he'd taken off his cloak to look at himself in the mirror but now...

Now he stood in front of the mirror, eyes wide with longing. Reflected back at him was himself… but it wasn't just him. Standing beside him in the reflection was his mom, her vibrant red hair and soft green eyes, just a shade off his own. In the reflection, she was looking down at the reflected Harry, looking at her boy with the love he'd seen Aunt Petunia give so freely to Dudley, the worry his friends parents had always shown at the end of summers over the years, the gentle fussing with his school uniform that other kids complained about and he envied. And yet, here it was. Looking in that mirror, he saw a reflection of a life he'd always longed for. The love of a mother he never had.

She looked so alive in the reflection, so fierce and loving… he could see the woman his dad had always described in the short conversations that they had.

Harry didn't even notice when he started crying until the Lily in the reflection started wiping his reflection's tears, and he found himself having to wipe his own. It hurt, somewhere deep in his soul. It hurt that this mirror had to show him something he'd never have. He'd never have a mom to comfort him after a nightmare, he'd never have a mom to help with homework or tease him about his friends, he'd never have a mom to fuss over him, to fix his messy ties or wipe his tears or reassure him that he's loved… how cruel indeed, to show someone's deepest desire to a heart that knew it would never be them.

To rip his eyes from the mirror was a struggle, to remove his glasses and wipe away the wet tears blurring his vision. How cruel of a mirror indeed.

He left without another word, slipping the invisibility cloak over his head again and sneaking back up to Gryffindor tower.